


vita bella

by somehowunbroken



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Eating, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-08-18
Packaged: 2020-09-06 12:35:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20291557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somehowunbroken/pseuds/somehowunbroken
Summary: Tyson just wants to introduce Nate to his favourite lunch spot.





	vita bella

**Author's Note:**

  * For [stormylullabye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormylullabye/gifts).

> there's a story somewhere on reddit that there's a restaurant owner somewhere in denver who talked about "tyson barrie and his friend!!!" who ate lunch there a lot. this is based on that.
> 
> g, i had like seven ideas, so deal with it. :D?

"Okay, so," Tyson says, pulling the door open for Nate. "This is, like, my favourite restaurant, so try not to be too embarrassing, okay?"

Nate's eyebrows shoot up as he walks in. "Since when am I the embarrassing one out of the two of us?"

"Since this is my _favourite restaurant_," Tyson stresses. "They know me. They love me."

Nate opens his mouth to chirp, because Tyson going to a place so often that they recognise him is absolutely chirp-worthy, but he's interrupted before he can get a word out. "Tyson!" someone says, and Nate looks up to see a portly man emerge from the back of the restaurant, wiping his hands on a cloth. "Long time, no see!"

Tyson laughs and reaches out to shake the guy's hand. "I was here last week, Francisco."

"Too long," Francisco says firmly, beaming at him. "You want your usual?"

"I definitely do," Tyson says. "But my buddy here hasn't visited your fine establishment before, so he's gonna need a menu."

Francisco turns to Nate, the same beaming smile on his face. "Any friend of Tyson's is a friend of mine," he says. "I'll bring you a menu."

"Actually," Nate says, "whatever Tyson's having, I'll just have that. He's got good taste."

Francisco's smile somehow gets wider. "Oh, keep this one," he says, patting Tyson's forearm before disappearing back into the kitchen.

"What," Tyson splutters, and Nate grins. Flustered is a good look on him.

"Apparently Francisco likes me," he says, looking around. "Where do we sit? Do you have a reserved table or something?"

Tyson huffs and leads him towards the back of the small restaurant. "No," he says, sitting down in what Nate can only describe as a _plop_. "Francisco doesn't care where we sit. Seating's open."

"So your ass print isn't in that chair?" Nate asks, sliding into his seat. "I feel like your ass print is in that specific chair at this specific table."

"You think you know what my specific ass print looks like?" Tyson asks, grinning. "You're welcome to check, Nate, but if you can identify what my ass does to a chair, I think we need to talk about how much time you spend looking at it."

"A lot," Nate says as seriously as he can. It's the truth, but Tyson just snorts and rolls his eyes, like he usually does.

"Anyway," Tyson says, leaning back, "Francisco makes the best food. I come here all the time, and I can't believe I've never brought you here before. I've failed you as a friend, and I apologise for that."

"I'm gonna let you know whether or not I forgive you after I get my food," Nate decides. "What am I getting, anyway?"

"My favourite," Tyson replies.

Nate rolls his eyes. "Tys. Buddy. Is that supposed to narrow it down for me?"

"You know what food I like," Tyson says. "Figure it out."

Nate narrows his eyes. There's a reason he's not a detective; Tyson's only so deep, though, and Nate does know him pretty well. He glances around for clues and tries to see if he can smell anything coming from the kitchen, but there's not really a lot to go on. Still, he needs to make a guess here.

"Grilled chicken salad," he says with as much confidence as he can muster. "Some kind of balsamic dressing, vegetables underneath it."

Tyson's eyes go wide. "You peeked!"

Nate laughs and tips his chair back. "At what?" he asks, feeling smug. "You're just predictable."

"You take that back," Tyson says, and the apples of his cheeks go red like he does when he's really indignant about something. It's cute, not that Nate's thinking about that.

"No," Nate says. "I'll take it back if I'm wrong."

Tyson crosses his arms over his chest and glares, and Nate's trying not to laugh when Francisco comes out of the back, a plate in each hand.

"Here we are," he says, setting one down in front of each of them. "Grilled chicken salad, served on a bed of fresh vegetables, with our house balsamic dressing on the side."

"Wow," Nate says, looking down at the salad and then back up at Francisco. "This looks amazing. Thank you."

"Yeah, thanks," Tyson says, and now he's pouting. Nate should be way less charmed, probably, but this is his life and he's pretty much accepted his lot in it.

The thing is, the salad actually does look incredible. There's not really much that can be done to make a grilled chicken salad fancy, but somehow Francisco has managed it; the chicken is sliced neatly and arranged on a bunch of colourful vegetables, and when Nate dips his finger in the dressing and licks it off, his eyes go wide.

"So am I forgiven?" Tyson asks smugly as Nate pours dressing all over his salad.

"Uh, no," Nate says. "You kept this place from me? You're the worst and I'm never forgiving you."

"Hey," Tyson squawks. "You would never have known about this place if not for me!"

"And I would never have known what I'd been missing this whole time if you didn't tell me about it now," Nate points out. He scrapes out his dressing cup and promises himself an extra half hour on the bike. "You should've just kept up the lie, man."

Tyson blows out an annoyed-sounding breath. "This is the thanks I get," he says to nobody, gesturing at Nate with his fork. "I try to give my friend this nice thing, introduce him to a place I really like, and he's just--"

Nate gets a bite of salad on his fork and shoves it into Tyson's mouth.

"Thanks," he says sweetly as Tyson sputters and then takes the bite.

"Oh, you're very cute," Francisco says, popping up out of nowhere. "Tyson, you didn't mention this was your… _friend_."

"My," Tyson says, and his face goes as red as the tomato that rolls away as he tries and fails to stab it. "Uh."

"Don't worry, don't worry," Francisco says before Tyson or Nate can correct him. "Your secret is safe with me! I won't tell anyone. I'll just say that Tyson Barrie and his friend came in for lunch, and nobody will know any different." He claps Nate on the shoulder hard and then walks away.

"Um, so," Nate says, at the same time as Tyson says, "So, actually--"

They both stop and stare at each other for a moment. "Okay, you go," Nate says when the silence starts to get weird.

"So, like," Tyson says. He looks at his plate and very studiously stabs at the tomato. "This isn't a date? This is just bros. But it… could be, I guess. If that's something you were into."

Nate feels a smile stretch across his face. "So if I told you I've been serious about how much time I spend looking at your ass, that wouldn't be weird?"

"I mean, it would, but I'd be into it," Tyson says, because he's never met a verbal filter once in his entire life. "Are you? Serious about it, I mean?"

"Yeah," Nate says. "Like. I might not be able to tell if your ass print was actually in that chair, but I feel like I'd have a better than average chance at figuring that out. Also, like, I like you."

"You like me," Tyson croons, and he's grinning as he hooks their ankles together under the table. "You want to date me--"

"I already want to dump you, date over," Nate says immediately, but he's smiling, Tyson's smiling, and this might be the best lunch Nate's had in a long, long time.

The salad is pretty good, too.

**Author's Note:**

> francisco, in the back: do i bring them a dessert cookie that says "congrats on the sex" on it in icing?  
sous chef: um, i don't--  
francisco: imma do it, get me the piping bag


End file.
